By: PepperjackCandy
Rating: PG13 (up to "second base" explicit, beyond that implied)
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a time.
Warning: This is a slash story (Harry/Draco), though romantically-slashy, rather than erotically-slashy. Hence the PG-13 rating.
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After Harry had sat by Draco's bedside, unmoving, for six hours, Neville brought him a plate.
"Apparently, the house-elves now have moved on to a Mexican cookbook." Neville said with a smile as he handed the plate to Harry.
"Mexican?" Harry looked down at a chicken breast in some kind of dark brown sauce, and some kind of tube wrapped in a corn husk.
"Dobby said that *that* is something called chicken mole and *that* is a tamale. He says that the book said that tamales are a traditional Christmas dish. At least, that's what I *think* he said. D'you suppose we'll ever teach Dobby how to use pronouns?"
Harry didn't feel like wrestling with the chicken breast, so he picked up the tamale and lifted it toward his mouth, but stopped when Neville grabbed his hand. "Take the corn husk off first. We almost made that mistake ourselves." He grinned.
Harry unwrapped the tamale and bit into it. It was quite the best thing Harry had ever eaten. Or maybe he was just too hungry to tell anymore. After the tamale had taken the edge off his hunger, he put the plate aside. "I'll eat the chicken later." He said to Neville, who nodded understandingly and moved to examine Draco.
"How's he doing?" Harry asked.
"No change, really." Neville sighed. "Every test we've done indicates that he'll be fine - once he recovers from the emotional shock."
This was old news. Ever since Madam Pomfrey had returned from Hogsmeade three hours before, she and Neville had been telling him the same thing - that Draco would be fine once he recovered. Harry wished the psychic bond that had existed among him, Draco and Voldemort hadn't dissolved when Voldemort disappeared. If he could just contact Draco somehow . . .
Harry stood from his chair and moved to perch on the edge of Draco's bed. "So, here we are again, in the hospital wing," he said to his love's unconscious form, "we really should stop meeting like this."
He took Draco's hand. "Hard to believe that it's only been three and a half months since we first came to our truce. And now I don't know if I can live without you . . ." Tears began pouring from his eyes.
He sat like that for several minutes, grasping Draco's hand and crying, remembering their late-night meetings, their romp in the first snow of the year, Draco in Muggle clothes, dancing on the veranda of the castle outside the windows of the Great Hall.
"I really thought it'd be me who'd end up hospitalized. If I'd've known that it was going to be you . . ." He wiped the tears from his cheeks.
"Hey! You know what? When you wake up, you can tell Erik that his grandmother was right. A Slytherin *did* defeat Voldemort. You." He grinned at his boyfriend through his tears, then moved to kiss his inert lips.
He waited a minute, but there was no change. "Damn fairy tales! A kiss from your true love doesn't do a damn bit of good."
He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Ginny escorting Ron and Hermione into Draco's cubicle.
Harry realized that the word 'escorting' was an understatement when he saw what Ginny was doing. She was standing behind them, one hand clamped tightly on the back of each of the others' necks.
Ron pursed his lips as his eyes followed Harry's arm down to where his hand was joined to Draco's. "Insomnia, huh?" He asked with very little humor and broke Ginny's grasp, leaving the room. Hermione followed him.
Harry released Draco's hand and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes slowly with the heels of his hands and yawning. He put his glasses back on and saw Ginny still standing there.
"Have a seat." He indicated the chair he'd vacated in favor of the edge of Draco's bed.
After Ginny sat down, Harry said, "It's kind of funny, 'cause I was going to tell them just before Voldemort struck. Now I'm glad I didn't."
"Why?"
"'Cause if they'd reacted this way before Voldemort struck, I don't know if I'd've been able to hold it together long enough to help Draco at all."
"What happened in there?"
"You heard what we talked about. Voldemort wanted to take over Draco's body. And Draco stopped him." Harry turned a proud smile on his boyfriend's supine form.
"But how? How did he do it?"
"There was enough potion left in his mouth for me to connect to them on the astral plane. Voldemort was, like," Harry put his palms flush against each other, "against Draco. I think he was," Harry spread his fingers and pushed them so that the fingers of one hand crossed the fingers of the others, "going to go through him to get to Draco's body.
"I found the place where they were joined, and told Draco to push him away. Voldemort just sort of floated away and disappeared."
"And that's when he imploded?"
Harry nodded. "And just as I felt the connection to them end, Draco passed out."
"He'll be fine, you know." Ginny said with a sad smile.
"That's what they tell me, but I still *need* him back."
Ginny reached out and took Harry's hand. "He knows. And he'll be back as soon as he can be."
Six more hours passed. Ginny eventually left Harry's side and was replaced by Hagrid, who just sat silently, being there if Harry needed him.
"You were right." Harry said. "I should have told him that I love him."
Hagrid smiled sadly. "He knows that you love him. And you'll have plenty of time to tell him. The rest of your lives."
Harry wished he could be so optimistic.
After Hagrid left, Neville brought Harry some breakfast. Since Harry had never touched the chicken, Neville had tried something a little less ambitious. This plate bore only one of Dumbledore's sticky breakfast pastries. Harry took a bite. It was apricot, just like the one that Harry had eaten the morning after Draco had received the Dark Mark. After he had that recollection, the pastry tasted like ashes in Harry's mouth, but he choked it down all the same.
More hours passed. Neville came to check Draco's vital signs. "There's no change in his condition - wait a minute."
Neville lifted Draco's left arm. "Does the Mark look lighter to you?"
Harry looked at it. "Yeah. I guess. Maybe it's just wishful thinking."
"Maybe." Neville left the room and came back with a box of fabric swatches. "Poppy sews in her spare time. She makes all her own robes." He grinned. "Let's see . . ."
Neville began holding up black and gray swatches to the Mark. Eventually he looked up at Harry. "Does this look the same color to you?"
Harry nodded.
"I'll keep this here by his bedside, and when I come back to check on him next, I'll see if it's still the same color, or if it's changed in any way."
Finally, Harry was able to voice one of the concerns that had been dogging him since he'd stood to check Draco's heartbeat and had felt the young Slytherin's ribs through the fabric of the hospital robe he was wearing. "Will he starve to death?"
Neville gave Harry an understanding smile. "No. He won't. He doesn't have a lot of fat reserves, but we have a charm we can use to slow his metabolism if he gets dangerously thin. And I'm sure he'll be awake long before then, anyway."
Later, Ginny brought Harry his lunch. It was sandwiches made from the same cold meat and bread that had been for dinner the day before. Or was it two days before? Harry had lost track of time. He choked down a sandwich and kept waiting.
Dumbledore came to visit, bringing a letter with him. He sat in the guest chair that Neville had brought while Hagrid had visited. "Well," he sighed, running one hand through his hair. "It's over."
"What is?"
"The Ministry has their best people on it, and everything indicates that Voldemort is, in fact, gone.
"This is borne out by what happened this morning. Wormtail killed Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and then killed himself, leaving a suicide note in which he confessed to the crimes that Sirius was convicted for. Sirius will have a new trial, of course, but this time it'll just be a formality. He'll be acquitted."
"But . . . Lucius was mine. I owe him." There was an unusual coldness to Harry's tone.
Dumbledore smiled and nodded sadly. "I know you feel that way. And I think that Wormtail knew it too. But Wormtail knew something that you didn't - what happens when you are consumed by a thirst for vengeance. There's a reason they say 'consumed,' Harry. It would change you. And Wormtail chose to collect the debt he owes you for saving his life by saving you from that fate. Be thankful, Harry. And if you have a religious faith, say a prayer for Wormtail's soul."
Long after Dumbledore left, Harry was numb. He saw the wisdom in Dumbledore's words, but a deep, primal, part of him wanted to hurt the people who'd scarred Draco's body and soul so deeply.
Harry and Draco were on the veranda, dancing.
"I love you," Harry confessed, gazing deeply into Draco's silver eyes as they swayed to the music coming from the Great Hall.
"I love you, too." Draco responded, pulling Harry to him for a kiss.
" . . . love you, too." Harry heard as he struggled back to consciousness. He hadn't even realized that he'd fallen asleep, but he wanted to go back to that land, where he and Draco were happy, and together.
Then the realization that Draco had spoken hit him. He stood from his chair and walked to stand next to Draco's head. "Draco?" He asked softly. "Can you hear me?"
There was no response, and Harry dropped into his chair again. He'd have cried, if he'd had any tears left to shed.
His eyes drifted shut again, but they flew open again when he heard someone clearing his or her throat. He looked up. It was Hermione.
"Go to bed, Harry." She asked, pleadingly. "You need some rest."
"No." Harry argued numbly. "I can't. Draco needs me."
"You really love him."
Harry nodded.
"And Hagrid tells me that Malfoy really loves you, too. And Dumbledore says that, and Snape, and Ginny." She sighed and threw herself into the second chair. "I can't say I get it, and I can't say I'm comfortable with it, but you've been one of my best friends for seven years. And if you've found love, who'm I to argue?"
Harry smiled at her. "Thanks."
"No problem."
Hermione kept vigil with Harry for a couple of hours, then. Eventually, though, she started to drift off in the chair.
"Hermione? Why don't you go to bed?"
She looked at Harry, but had trouble focusing her eyes. "I guess I should." She admitted. "Sorry."
"No, don't apologize. You need your sleep. Thanks for staying here. And thanks for accepting … us." He looked over at Draco.
"You're welcome." Hermione stood and, yawning and stretching, left the room.
Harry realized then that he really was tired. He pulled his chair closer to Draco's bed, and leaning forward so his head rested on Draco's bed, fell asleep.
He was awakened by a hand smoothing his hair. He looked up, expecting it to be Ginny, but instead saw Draco smiling at him. "You look like an angel when you're asleep." Draco said softly.
Harry was too stunned to speak. He simply sat up and reached one hand out to touch Draco's face.
Finally, he found his voice. "Draco? Is it really you? You're all right?"
Draco nodded. "What time is it?"
"Wednesday." Harry responded.
"Wednesday? I've been out for two days?"
"Yeah. I think. I need to count. We missed breakfast and lunch on Monday because of Voldemort. Dinner Monday was something Mexican. Tuesday breakfast was a sticky roll. Tuesday lunch was sandwiches made from Sunday's dinner leftovers. I fell asleep and missed dinner Tuesday, so it's either very late Tuesday or very early Wednesday now."
"It's early Wednesday." Neville said with a smile as he came into the cubicle. "About half-past midnight, in fact."
Neville went into medical professional mode then, examining Draco. Finally, he pronounced him in perfect health. "Though you should probably stay in bed at least until morning, just in case." He grinned at Harry, who, as he expected, was crawling into Draco's bed.
Harry wrapped himself around Draco and immediately fell asleep, mumbling, "I lo . . ." as he drifted off.
Draco kissed the top of Harry's head. "I know. And I love you, too."
Harry woke up. The last he could remember, he was sleeping in his chair with his head on Draco's bed. But now he was lying down, and warm, and completely happy for the first time in what seemed like forever.
His arm was wrapped around the source of his warmth. He snuggled closer, and then he remembered -- Draco had woken up.
Suddenly Harry was wide awake. He lifted his head. Sure enough, there was Draco, looking down at him and smiling. "'Morning." Draco said, kissing the top of Harry's head.
"Hi," Harry smiled up at him, squirming up in the bed to kiss Draco's lips.
After they'd finished their kiss, the couple leaned their foreheads against each other's, just looking deeply into each other's eyes for a moment.
"You looked so beautiful," Draco said, "I didn't have the heart to wake you."
They heard a voice saying, "Eew." Then and looked over to see Ron standing there. "Oh, did I say that out loud?" Ron asked sarcastically.
"What do you want, Weasley?" Draco asked testily.
"I'm not here to see you, Malfoy. I came to see if Harry needed anything." Ron sighed. "I guess he doesn't." Ron turned to leave.
"Ron, stop." Harry pleaded, sitting up on the bed. "I do need something."
"Well, you can just get someone else to get it for you."
"No, I can't. It has to come from you."
"What?" Ron sighed heavily.
"Your friendship."
The painful honesty in Harry's tone seemed to tear away the last of Ron's defenses. He walked to Harry's side of the bed and, squeezing Draco's hand one last time, Harry stood.
"Why didn't you tell us about . . . this?" Ron still wasn't quite able to put Harry's situation into words.
"Because I knew that it would ruin our friendship if you ever found out."
"Nothing could ever. . ." Ron began to protest, but he stopped short. He cringed. "Yeah, I guess I see your point."
Harry held out his hand, and Ron took it. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't think I'll ever like him, but I promise he'll never come in the way of our friendship again."
The two young men hugged, then. When they parted, Ron addressed Draco directly. "If you *ever* hurt him, I'll kill you." He said conversationally.
"You'd have to take a number," Draco said with a surprising amount of humor.
When Ron looked confused, Harry said, "I think a few people have made that threat."
Draco nodded. "But I'd never hurt him. I love him too much."
Harry looked at Draco, amazement shining in his eyes. "I love you, too."
"I know. I'm sorry I never said it before."
"I'm sorry, too. I meant to say it, but it just never happened."
Ron mumbled, "I guess I'm not needed here anymore." And with a fond look back at his best friend, he left the cubicle.
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A/N: 3.5 months? Well, Draco's birthday is September 2, and he tried to dissolve his left arm that Friday night (September 6) and it's now mid to late December . . . so 3.5 months is probably pretty close.